The Way You Read Through Me
by Group Hugs For Everyone
Summary: Could it truly be his fault if everything went horribly, horribly wrong and Carlton Lassiter was there when it happened?...Okay, maybe it could.//Rated for safety.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Welcome, my pineapple-loving friends and readers. This might be Shassie, might be a Shules. Might be a nothing. I don't know. Thanks to Jillybean(meatball42) for beta-ing. Thanks to you for reading. If you review at the end, I will reply and give you a pineapple shaped cookie. Just ask the others! Anyways, this **might** tie into Pineapple Cakes and Their Psychics, I don't know. So far it isn't looking like it will, but it could be a prequel or whatever. Fun, eh? Enjoy the story, pineapple-lovers._

_Disclaimer: Do you really see me owning Psych? Really? But I do own her and the storyline._

_Spoilers: None!_

_Characters: Jules, Shawn, Gus, Lassie, Karen, Henry. Abby will not be needed, and therefore does not exist. Perhaps this is a AU._

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In all honesty, this wasn't the best idea Shawn had. And it wasn't _really _his fault. Could it truly be his fault if everything went horribly, horribly wrong and Carlton Lassiter was there when it happened? Shawn paused in his thoughts, glancing up at the gun pointed in his face. Okay, maybe it could. But that was _not _the point. Or maybe it was, he wasn't sure. The knock on the head must have done him in. A tug on his right hand alerted him to Lassie's presence, and the fact that the man with a gun had just asked him something. Lassie was staring at him funny.

"Well my theory, oh mystical chupacabra-man, is that the gun you have is on safety and that's why it's not working." Shawn grinned lazily, pulling some random answer out of the air.

The man above him blinked before snarling, "I didn't ask you about the gun. I asked who you were calling."

Shawn looked down, things were rather fuzzy at the moment. Sweat was clouding his eyes, and the cuffs connecting him to Lassie made him feel cold. The metal bit into his wrist painfully, and his head felt light. Dizzy. "Aly and Aj, I absolutely adore the potential break-up song. It's fantastic."

"Spencer," Lassiter hissed into his ear. "Don't provoke him."

Shawn winced as the gun cocked, the sound hammering in his ears. His head drooped, and, for some odd reason, the voice of Lassie calling out his name was growing fainter and fainter.

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**_

Two Weeks Before

_**Murder Case 1**_

_**And So She Comes Back.**_

She was stretched out, hands lying limp against what was once pure white sheets. Her limbs were tangled within, eyes closed as if in sleep, a slight smile gracing her ashen face. She had dark chestnut curls—ones that would remind you of Emmy Rossum—that spilled across her pillow, which had a yellow background with tulips and roses. The theme of the room was something called Shabby Chic; the curtains were yellow with roses, and the comforter on the bed matched the pillow. It was everything you would expect of a fifteen year old girl with high hopes: the bedside table lightly cluttered, the walls covered with posters and hand-made drawings. Nothing was disturbed, and if you looked closely you could see the messy pattern that meant she knew precisely where everything was. Her diary was locked, the key found in the pocket of a pair of jeans carelessly slung over a chair for later washing, and held the girlish secrets one would expect of one her age.

Her name was Aisha Morganne. She was murdered in her sleep by a bullet to the head and no one had heard the shot. There was no sign of a struggle, or a break-in. Nothing was taken.

Nobody expected her death: she was '_such a sweet girl'_ and _' no one could dare do her any harm'_. She _'had a heart the size of South America'_.

That one was a surprise. Who says 'a heart the size of South America'? Wasn't it supposed to be Texas? Or, even better, California?

But they were in shock. No one had a clue as to who would kill the darling. And Head Detective Carlton Lassiter was getting a little bit upset.

Sighing, he gripped his coffee and glared over at his partner, Juliet O'Hara who, at the moment, was trying to calm the girl's mother down enough for coherency. Lassiter shuddered, hysterical mothers. Scary. He did not envy the junior detective. The phone in his pocket vibrated, indicating some sort of message he probably wouldn't be able to see because the damn thing was _mocking _him with the fact he had to surrender his old phone after it got crushed in a car crash and now he couldn't figure this one out. _Mocking._

It vibrated again, this time with a cheery ding. He sighed again, pried away a hand from his precious coffee, and fumbled about in his pocket for a moment or two before coming up with the contraption.

_new cse?_ _3~s.s._

He glared down at the screen, rearranging his vocabulary to better suit the chat speak, and came up with the only probable explanation. Spencer. Shawn Spencer found out about the case and was well into his plan of bothering Lassiter. Although he couldn't decipher the '3'.

_No, Spencer. Stay away. And what the hell is 3? CL_

He pushed the send button with no small amount of triumph, he finally figured out the damned phone!

"I'd say the symbol is a heart, Carlton. But I'm certainly not Shawn." Juliet offered from across the hall, waving her phone in Lassiter's general direction.

Lassiter groaned loudly as Shawn Spencer entered the room and grinned over at his prized annoyee. Today was not a good day, Lassiter decided as Spencer weaved through the crowd towards him. In fact, it was probably safe to say it was a very _bad _day.

"Lassie!" Shawn cried out lightly, bouncing slightly on his heels as he stopped in front of the detective.

"Listen, Spencer," Lassiter began before the fake psychic could take another breath. "I don't have time for your shenanigans, I have actual work to do. And I would appreciate it greatly if you would leave."

Spencer shook his head, the grin momentarily leaving his face before coming back full-force. "No can do, Lassie-Fish. I have an urgent message from the chief." His right hand rose to his temple, eyes turning upward and squinting as he bent his legs. "S-something about the past...old relations..blue...something, something blue. I'm seeing...a car? No, truck. No, car! It's a car of some sort, a Chevy? No...Toyota? Yes! It's a blue Toyota! A-and a young woman!" Shawn didn't get to finish as Lassiter shoved him out of the way and bolted to the door, ignoring the calls of Juliet.

Shawn blinked after Lassie, "You're welcome!"

_

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_A/N: Yes, now you review for your cookie. That button, right there. Yes, below the text. Press it. You know you want to. Do it. Yes, that's right._

_I remain your obedient Authoress,_

_Lushy_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: **Thanks for all the story alerts, reviews, and author alerts. You guys make meh feel special. *Sniffles* All right, so here we got chapter two. I hope you all like it.  
**Thanks:** Jillybean(Meatball42) for taking the time out of your schedule to beta my fanfic, means a good deal to me.  
__**Disclaimer:** Oh, yes. I own Psych and make tons of money and see James kiss Tim on a daily basis. PSYCH! (I need to stop hanging around my dad, the king of bad puns.)_

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Lassiter shoved open the door to Karen Vick's office, eyes piercing the room as the chief looked up calmly.

"You got Shawn's message, I suppose?" She asked, motioning to one of the seats by her desk. Lassiter hesitated, once again looking about the room as Karen sighed. "She's not here, detective."

Lassiter sunk into the seat, redirecting his vision to the woman before him and weighing each word carefully before he spoke. "Where is she?"

"Unfortunately, the hospital. It's just procedure," she added as Lassiter seemed about to stand up and rush away. "She sprained her ankle, they're simply making sure she's okay before sending her here. I've sent McNab to pick her up."

Lassiter sighed, "Good, that's good. But why is she here, chief?"

Karen shook her head, shifting some strands of hair out of her eyes as she leaned towards the detective. "Lassiter, you remember the couple of months that Mr. Spencer took leave?"

Lassiter nodded, how could he forget? Those had been bittersweet times. With Spencer gone he was able to focus on work, but during that time nobody really wanted to. Spencer had been thoroughly unreachable when they needed him, and need them they did. Carlton had nearly gone after the man himself; were it not for the entreaty of O'Hara and a young girl he probably would have.

"When she came by, Mr. Spencer had no idea of her existence, let alone the consultation and the case. After the transfer, when he came back, he was not informed of any information regarding the case. I'd like to keep it that way until she lets us know what she wants."

"Then why did you give Spencer the message?" Lassiter growled, growing increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation

"Because she wants to meet him." Karen sighed, lacing her fingers together and placing her hands on the desk before her. "The case has yet to be solved, detective. And recently there has been suspicion that Eric Follde has come back."

"Come back?" Lassiter repeated in a hoarse whisper, grasping at the sides of his chair. "What do you mean, 'come back'?"

"The murder you just came from?" She paused for a nod, "It's possible he was the perpetrator."

"Last we knew he was in LA," he argued softly, bowing his head as numerous thoughts and grotesque images filled his mind.

"He's back, and so is she."

"From Texas? Why is she back from somewhere that she was sent for her safety?"

"Because she's the only one who can solve this." Karen leaned back, closing her eyes briefly before focusing on the detective. "Listen. She has an idea of how we can capture him, just listen to her."

"And why does she want Spencer?"

"She wants Spencer," came a soft, female voice from the doorway. "Because I might need the help of a psychic who has solved over fifty cases."

Lassiter turned, his heart broken. It had been a year or so since they last met, and when _she_ went it was a sad sight. Her hair was mussed, her clothes wrinkled, eyes bloodshot from the night terrors every time she closed her eyes. Lack of sleep. She was a child then, a child with the weight of the world thrown upon her shoulders without a word of warning. She was a child who could save countless lives, a child who just wished she had her parents back.

For safety, if a child has their parents murdered, normally the legal system would provide temporary home. More often than not it was a cop's home. If the Chief said to take this child into your home, you did it. And that is what Lassiter had done. He couldn't count the nights he heard her sobbing. Not the sobs of a little girl who broke up with her boyfriend, or had a friend move away. No, they were gut wrenching pleas and sobs of someone who'd lost their world. It was the type of crying that made it hard to breathe, that would end in hyperventilation. He couldn't count the moments when she'd walk into a room, plastering on a fake smile, and force herself not to grieve.

She didn't grieve. She never grieved. People told her to move on. And that's what she did. But, in the end, it just made her break further and further. She went away a child. She was a woman now. He wondered, idly, if she let herself grieve. He judged by her hardened face and smile that was just slightly over joyous that she didn't, she learned to mask her feelings well.

"Daphne," he breathed. There were so many more words to be said, and not one of them would go from his brain to his mouth.

"Hey, Cars." The grin widened, deepened. It seemed almost real, before it switched back to the slightly fake one. "Karen, I missed you. Texas is extremely boring, I lived next to a bull. But I did get to try a enchilada. You ever had one, Cars?" She redirected her attention to Carlton, adjusting her grip on the mandatory crutches she held.

"No, I can't say I have." The answer was automatic, and Daphne could tell. Her head inclined slightly, and he could nearly see her as she was before. She'd grown up so much, how could one year do that?

"Miss Dale, I--"

Daphne waved her hand at Karen, chuckling. "I believe after what we've been through together, we're on a first name basis." She hobbled over to the chair by Lassiter, sitting down with a contented sigh. "Did you know that when you're being escorted by cops and sprain your ankle while exiting the plane, they use the sirens to get you to the hospital? It's fun."

Karen cleared her throat, catching the attention of both Carlton and Daphne. "Daphne, you wished to meet the Head Psychic, correct?"

"Yes. I want to see what he can do, he could be quite useful." And in those words, Carlton saw a change. She was all business. Nothing was to mess with her, and she made it clear through her body language and tone. She wanted to see what he could do and, by God, she would.

Karen noticed it too, he eyes widened in shock briefly before returning to their pensive state. "Very well. I'll see if O'Hara has brought him yet."

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_**A/N:** Hey! You made through it! Great. Now, I loved all the story and author alerts, but I'd love to hear from you. So come on, review and tell me how you liked it. We got a long way to go, so don't me shy. Review, and be in by curfew. (Oh, that sucked)_

_I remain your obedient Authoress,_

_Lushy_


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